


Complications

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: A Better Place to Land [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 00:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20162524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: The Vagabond has his phone.





	Complications

**Author's Note:**

> Working on clearing out my WIP folder and found this which is a missing scene from A Better Place to Land based on an exchange with Miss-ingo. XD

The Vagabond has his phone.

It’s...Gavin doesn’t know what it is, because it’s not as thought he could just make a phone call what with being tied up as he is. (Tied up, caught. In a bind, a pickle, all those lovely little sayings and turns of phrase that add up to trouble of the worst sort.)

Gavin _is_ bored, though.

Hours of staring at blank walls and nothing to let him know what it is the Fakes want from him. (Everyone wants something in this city, and you don’t go abducting someone if you don’t think you can get your money’s worth out of them.)

He enjoyed the oh-so-charming company of Rimmy-whatsit until he was called away for some bit of business and the Vagabond had taken his place.

Waltzed on in pretty as you please and leaned up against the wall in front of Gavin to pull Gavin’s own phone out of his jacket pocket. And then he had the nerve to set to work trying to unlock it. 

Puzzling away at it like it’s the daily crossword, an occasional _hmph_ or _huh_ or _hmm_ to go along with the whole production as though Gavin’s not right there in agony over how terrible a job the man’s doing. (He’s been at it for absolute ages tap-tap-tapping away and no sign of progress to be seen!)

He doesn’t stalk over after failing to crack Gavin’s password for some length of time. Doesn’t loom or threaten or anything Gavin was expecting out of him. He’s not even looking at Gavin, focus on Gavin’s phone and the oh so challenging...challenge of unlocking it.

It feels less like mockery at this point and closer to gloating over the fact they’ve caught Gavin when everyone else in this godforsaken city hasn’t.

It’s just…Gavin doesn’t even know, and that’s even more maddening.

Gavin’s about to offer a hint, bit of a suggestion to help the man out when his phone rings.

It _rings_.

The Vagabond cocks his head, thumb hovering above the screen. Slowly looks at Gavin.

Gavin, for his part, is frozen in the chair.

Blood gone cold and all that because - 

Gavin isn’t the sort to assign unique ringtones to his phone contacts. Doesn’t see the point, but as with anything there are exceptions.

“Queen fan?” the Vagabond asks, so bloody amused because he _doesn’t know_ and now Gavin’s really in trouble, isn’t he, if this contact is calling him.

Finds out the spot of trouble Gavin’s gotten himself into this time and Gavin almost wishes the Fakes had killed him.

“Er,” Gavin manages, voice gone a little croaky on him. “Best not answer that.”

Still a chance he can slip this past them and all, if the bastard lets it go to voicemail. Convince them he misplaced is phone or some such afterwards, assuming he’s still alive by then. (Slim chance, but all Gavin has at the moment.)

Gavin’s not that lucky though, is he?

First he can’t avoid getting caught, and second, the Vagabond really is the bastard the rumors make him out to be because he chuckles.

This quiet little thing, still so damn amused as though Gavin’s obvious dread is just that entertaining – and he _answers the damn phone_.

Has been playing Gavin for a fool because he just taps in the password easy as anything and unlocks it to answer the phone.

“Hello?” he says, perfectly polite in a too-bright tone of voice.

_Retail Voice_, Gavin thinks dimly, reminded of his own he’d adopted years ago now, long before he threw himself into this terrible life of his.

Gavin can’t see the Vagabond’s grin under the mask of his, but he’s certain the smug bastard is enjoying Gavin’s clear discomfort over the call. Laughing his little black heart out as he watches Gavin squirm - 

Until he isn’t.

Goes stone-cold still, doesn’t he. Frozen to the spot and all that out of shock or something close enough to it anyway.

It’s hard to be certain with the mask and wonky lighting, but Gavin’s swears the Vagabond’s eyes widen.

Which, given who’s on the other end of the phone call isn’t that shocking. 

“...Meg?” he asks, stunned, surprised. 

Clearly not expecting this turn of events.

Gavin – Gavin would like to know how the bastard knows Meg, but given their line of work it’s not too difficult to guess. (Small world, for people as skilled as them. Of course their paths would cross at some point.)

Gavin refocuses his attention on getting out of his bonds because there’s no way Meg hasn’t guessed something is wrong. Hasn’t figured out Gavin’s gone and gotten himself into the trouble she warned him about, so.

Yes.

He listens with half an ear to the Vagabond’s side of things as the man shakes himself out of his initial surprise and holds a conversation with Meg. Voice rising and falling, exasperation accompanied by hand gestures he glimpses from the corner of his eye.

“Do you mind?”

Short, sharp bark of the Vagabond’s voice has Gavin giving the man an incredulous look.

Not to be rude, but he’d rather take his chances with the Vagabond and the rest of the Fakes than face Meg’s wrath and all that. (Safer, too.)

He’s got one hand free of the ropes and is working at undoing the knot on the other and close to freedom (escape) and the damned Vagabond expects him to stop just because he says so? (And so rudely too.)

“Well, I mean,” Gavin says, trying for a pleasant little smile. Wouldn’t want to bother the nice Vagabond while he’s on the phone and all, be a nuisance. “You’re a bit busy, I thought I might make myself scarce to give you some privacy?”

That nets him a disbelieving look from the Vagabond, followed by a frown as he tips his head closer to the phone.

Meg, and oh dear God, Gavin is surely dead this time. All the good-will he’s built up with her smashed to smithereens thanks to his idiocy.

“She wants to talk to you,” the Vagabond says, calculating look in his eye as he walks over and takes in the results of Gavin’s escape-in-progress.

Gavin eyes him. The phone in his hand. Looks down at the tangle of his bonds he’s still working his way free of.

“...I’d rather not?” he says. “Bit tied up at the moment.”

He hadn’t meant to make a joke of it, but he’s not at his best.

The Vagabond growls, shoving the phone at Gavin and Gavin...Gavin sighs because it seems as though there’s no escaping his fate.

Takes the phone with his free hand and smiles as he answers. Uses that to help get his cheer on as he greets Meg.

“Ah, hello, Turney,” he says, and winces because that was not the best route to take. “Er. Meg.”

There’s silence, edged with razor blades, and then a very put upon sigh from Meg.

“Hello, Gavin, she says, bright and bubbly. “How are you this fine day?”

Oh, that’s not good at all, is it?

There’s a specific edge to Meg’s voice, this _what did you do now?_ that doesn’t bode well for him the next time they happen to meet.

Speaking of - 

“Are you at the airport?” Gavin asks, straining to hear a voice in the background that sound suspiciously like a boarding announcement. “I thought you were on a job?”

Meg _hmms_, and Gavin can imagine the expression on her face at the moment.

“I was,” she says, twittering little laugh because she’s in public and can’t lecture him the way she so clearly wants to. “But them Mariel sent along an interesting tidbit of information about things in Los Santos and I finished things up here early.”

Gavin frowns, eyes flicking up to see the Vagabond watching him. Curious tilt to his head and this...it’s not amusement to him anymore, but something else Gavin can’t quite place.

“Ah,” Gavin says. “I see.”

Meg is silent, waiting for Gavin’s confession which is bad. Means she’s well and truly annoyed with him, tipping towards angry.

“Well,” he says, and doesn’t know how to continue, or even if he should since he’d just be digging the hole he’s found himself in deeper. “Yes.”

The Vagabond snorts, having moved on from mild curiosity and back to amusment.

“You know, love,” Gavin says, because the man has been nothing but irritating about this development. “I’m sure the Vagabond could tell the story far better than I could.”

The part where they caught up to him, at least. Everything else Meg will squeeze out of Gavin himself when she gets back to Los Santos. (Which going by the boarding announcements being made, will be soon enough.)

Meg _hmms_ again, that thread of _oh, you are in for it buster_ not directed at Gavin this time, which is a good sign.

“Play nice until I get there,” she instructs, tone brooking no argument. “And put him on the phone.”

Well, it’s not as though Gavin had much choice in the matter anyway, but the thought of her rushing back to Los Santos to save him from himself is reassuring.

“Of course,” he says, and the smile that tugs at his mouth feels genuine. “Have a safe flight, love.”

He’s laying it on thick, but he’s also learned it’s one of the best ways to soothe her frayed temper. (Oh, she knows what he’s doing, but seeing as she allows it she can’t be that bothered.)

“Charmer,” she murmurs fondly.

Gavin laughs, looking up to find the Vagabond still watching him – bit creepy that. 

“She’d like to have a few words,” he says, and laughs again at the way the man’s eyes narrow behind his mask, gaze darting to the phone Gavin’s holding out to him like it’s a venomous snake. “Quickly now, she has a flight to catch.”

He gets another little growl for that, and then the Vagabond’s plucking the phone out of his hand and turning his back to Gavin to talk to Meg.

Gavin glances down at his bonds, half undone and sighs to himself.

All that work of getting himself loose (half-loose?) and for naught, since Meg seems to think it’s a better choice to go along with whatever the Fakes want with him than escape their clutches.

The Vagabond makes this – he _whines_ like a child denied a treat – and glances over his shoulder at Gavin – but then he goes quiet. 

Nods his head along to whatever Meg’s telling him and sighs, as though she’s asking something inexpressibly terrible of him.

“Fine,” he mutters sulkily. “No killing.”

He's still looking at Gavin, something accusatory about it now, like this is all Gavin’s fault. (Which. Not entirely wrong.)

Several minutes go by with the Vagabond making these little noises of agreement and capitulation before he hangs up, wishing Meg a safe flight as well, and then he just.

Stares at Gavin.

Puzzling through the hows and whys of how in the hell Gavin met someone like Meg, let alone counted among the select group of people Meg’s fond of. (Enough to speed up her schedule, risk botching a job for.)

Gavin’s aware his association with Meg will complicate matters once the Fakes get around to whatever they plan to do with him, but that’s not his problem, is it? He didn’t ask to be abducted and carted off to this bland little hidey spot of theirs, after all.

“Well then,” Gavin says, not sure what else to say. “I did tell you not to answer.”


End file.
